As the centenary of Marilyn Monroe's birth approaches, a fevered auction of her personal effects has drawn British collectors, with dresses and makeup kits fetching prices in the millions. The sale, held in Los Angeles, saw the iconic ‘Happy Birthday, Mr. President’ gown sell for £4.
8 million, while a collection of her cosmetics – a powder compact, lipstick, and foundation – went for £1.2 million. The sums underline a nostalgia boom that has pushed Monroe’s legacy beyond the silver screen into a lucrative market for celebrity memorabilia.
For the working-class families in the North who still struggle with the cost of living, such figures can seem obscene. But the event also reflects a broader trend: the monetisation of a star who, despite her glamour, was never far from the reality of financial insecurity. Monroe herself once said, ‘I don’t want to make money.
I just want to be wonderful.’ Yet here we are, while wages stagnate and rents rise, a single gown fetches what a nurse earns in several lifetimes. The auction raised over £20 million, a sum that could fund school meals for years.
The question lingers: what does our collective worship of the dead say about the state of the living?
